


kill them with kindness

by miraiomita



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraiomita/pseuds/miraiomita
Summary: Felix is Dimitri’s advisor. They don’t always see eye to eye, but they complement each other well. The way Fódlan is thriving is proof of that. Still, at times Felix can’t help but hate everything about Dimitri. Other times he’s more honest with himself.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	kill them with kindness

Anger pulses in his veins. Felix squeezes his eyes shut, balls his hands into fists and tries to gather himself. Without success.

"Felix, all I ask is for you to consider it," says Dimitri in that calm tone of his that never fails to set Felix’s teeth on edge.

"No," Felix snaps and opens his eyes. He raises his gaze from the ground and looks into Dimitri's remaining eye. His face makes him even angrier. It’s so serious and sincere. It makes his blood boil.

"Felix, please, hear me out." Dimitri’s eyebrows pull together into a worried frown. "I am sure that Rodrigue-"

Felix sees red. Before he knows what’s happening, he has taken a step forward. Dimitri's annoying face is now only inches apart from his own.

"Stop," he growls. "How many times do I have to tell you? They are dead!" His heart is beating too fast. His voice is too loud. He tries to calm himself and digs his fingernails into his palms. Waits, until the pain distracts him from the anger. "Just let them finally rest."

Dimitri's frown deepens. But his gaze remains determined.

"It is different this time. Please hear me out. I believe," he smiles wistfully, "that we can let them rest and keep their memory alive at the same time. We do not have to choose between one or the other." Then he slowly raises one hand and puts it on Felix's shoulder. Cautiously, as if dealing with a shy animal.

Felix flinches back as if burned. Dimitri's face falls.

It’s all too much. He has to get out of here. Now. He turns and storms out of the study. The fact that he’s running away makes him angry. The fact that he can't stand Dimitri's stupid ideas and his pathetic face. That he's the one who's fleeing.

It makes him angry that Dimitri wants to immortalize his family in a memorial. It makes him angry to the point that he feels sick. His body is burning, and his stomach clenched tight. What is it that Dimitri wants to achieve with this? Does he want them to be admired and mourned by the masses? Does he want Felix to look at their faces day in, day out?

Does he want him to see the silent accusations in their eyes?

Because the truth is that Felix is not a good advisor. Not a good shield for Faerghus either. And not even a good duke.

He is a fighter. He’s meant travel through Faerghus as a sword. Not sit idly at the king's side as a shield. Fighting is the one thing he excels at. It’s what he’s lived and trained for all these years.

Felix pauses as the training grounds come into view. He hadn't even noticed that his feet were carrying him here. But that’s good – blowing off steam is exactly what he needs right now.

He strides past the training swords. Moves on to the Silver Swords and grabs one randomly. Today he’s not interested in style and precision, but only in sweating this stifling rage out of his body.

He hits the dummies so hard that he feels the shock right to his teeth. That's it. Exactly what he needs. He loses himself in it. Step forward, strike, step back. The routine is familiar, reliable and feels like home. It allows him to forget about everything else. With every blow he feels better, more grounded and calmer.

"Felix."

The voice cuts through his daze. Felix stands frozen, sword in the air.

"I am sorry, but I simply cannot leave things as they are right now.”

That damned fool. Doesn't he know when it's enough?

With one swift move he turns around. There he stands. His blond hair looks almost white in the blazing sun. He watches Felix through a narrowed eye, squinting against the sunlight. He’s standing there with mussed hair and dressed in his light blue tunic. At first glance he looks unassuming. But there is something in his eye, in the tight line of his mouth.

Stubbornness.

That stupid memorial really must be important to him. Unfortunately, as always, Dimitri has no sense of self-preservation.

The anger is back. Felix came here to fight, and he’ll be damned if he lets Dimitri stop him.

Felix doesn't say a word, strides back to the weapon rack and reaches for a Silver Lance. He wants a fair match after all. He throws it to Dimitri, who catches it at the last second, surprise written all over his face. The expression quickly gives way to frustration.

"I do not want to fight you," he says.

"Too bad, because I do."

"What good will that do? Please, at least hear me out before you judge the memorial so harshly."

"No," says Felix and raises his sword.

Dimitri's lance still lies loosely in his hand.

"I will not fight you like this," he says.

The anger grows. His skin feels too tight.

"Yes, you will," he says and strengthens his grip on the handle.

"No, Fe-," Felix doesn't give him enough time to finish the sentence. He charges. Combat is his element and his body sings. Fighting makes him feel free and light in a way he never does otherwise. Dimitri still has not raised his lance, but it doesn’t matter because Felix will leave him no choice. He's close enough now. Only a few feet separate him from Dimitri. He moves into the steps for Wrath Strike. As he spins the blow gains speed and force. Felix completes the turn, adrenaline pulsing in his veins and anger spurring him on.

Dimitri has not raised his lance.

It happens so fast that the realization turns into a series of clipped impressions: the lowered lance, Dimitri's stubborn face, his exposed neck.

Then there is panic. It’s too late. The momentum of the strike carries him and Felix knows that he won’t be able to stop in time. Still, he pushes himself against it with all his might, tries to soften the blow.

His blade comes to a halt just a hair's breadth from Dimitri's throat.

"I am not fighting you," repeats Dimitri as if nothing had happened. Stubborn, determined, definite. Fearless. He stands there like an absolute fool, with Felix's blade at his throat and without a trace of fear in his eye. He didn’t even flinch, Felix realizes. Dimitri stands there as if nothing could ever touch him, head held high, gaze piercing. And Felix can do nothing but stare back, stunned, gasping for breath and feeling faint.

"Not like this," says Dimitri.

"Let us talk," says Dimitri.

"Felix," says Dimitri.

Felix is now staring at the blade of his sword. He can’t remember moving his gaze but he also cannot look away. He can’t help but think that it’s far too close to Dimitri's throat.

He feels dizzy. Dimitri's voice sounds distant, miles away. The world starts spinning.

And then it stops.

Felix takes a sudden step backwards and drops the sword.

"You idiot!" he shouts. But his voice is trembling too hard to sound intimidating. He looks up at Dimitri, furious. "Are you suicidal?” As if through a fog, he realizes that his hands have also begun to tremble. “I could have slit your throat!"

That doesn’t seem to impress Dimitri. He just shakes his head. And then he smiles, like the absolute lunatic he is.

"I have far too much faith in you and your swordsmanship to even consider that."

Faith?

Felix's legs give way under him and he drops to his knees. He presses his hands together to suppress the shaking. He feels small and weak and stupid.

Dimitri's shoes step into his field of vision. Then a shadow looms over him as Dimitri kneels before him. A heavy hand comes to rest on his shoulder and this time Felix allows it. He lets the warmth wash over him. He takes measured breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Let us talk, Felix," Dimitri says. And then he adds with feeling, “Please.”

The truth is that Dimitri has complete and utterly defeated him. He’s kneeling on the ground, rattled, weaponless and without escape route. What else could he do but nod?

So, he does exactly hat. He feels calmer. The anger has left his body and made way for a strange kind of numbness.

A hand comes to rest on his other shoulder. Felix closes his eyes.

The truth is that it feels good to be so close.

"I owe Glenn and Rodrigue my life. They were extraordinary people who will always have an important place in my heart. That is why I want to build them a memorial. Not to keep them alive artificially. Nor to glorify their deaths."

Dimitri pauses. Felix opens his eyes and sees that Dimitri's gaze is fixed on the ground. Remorse is written all over his face.

"I do not want to keep them to myself as distorted ghosts. What I want is to celebrate them with the world as the people they really were."

He looks up. His eye shines with determination as it focuses on Felix.

"I will no longer string gravestones around my neck. I promise. This is exactly the opposite." His voice is gentle, and his hands lay warm on Felix's shoulders. His face is annoyingly open, soft, and sincere.

What else could Felix do but nod?

So, he does.

"All right," he says and means it.

"But if you break that promise, I swear to Sothis, you'll regret it, " he adds as an afterthought.

Dimitri laughs. It’s a bright sound. It reminds Felix of times long past and for once he doesn't repress that thought immediately.

As Dimitri pulls him into a hug, he allows it and then holds on tight. Just for a moment.

It’s a good feeling.


End file.
